Aftermath: The Settling of the Sands
by GATX-105B
Summary: Based on the 2010 Movie. What happens in the aftermath of Dastan's bold actions to rectify Persia's mistakes? With no one but Dastan aware of what has transpired, will Dastan be able to win Tamina over?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted properties herein. All _Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time_ properties belong to Disney, Jerry Bruckheimer, and all other involved parties.

_Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time- Aftermath_

Ch1. Aftermath

They stood beneath the sun shaded by the foliage of Alamut's palace courtyard. Princess Tamina looked at the man who stood before her, rugged and battle-worn. It was as if he had seen a great many things. He stood before her, smiling as if he knew her. Yet she had never met this man before.

"Prince Dastan, you conquer us, yet you appear to have the desire to right your nation's brashly committed crimes. Why is that?" Tamina asks raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the young prince's calm demeanor and previous actions. He shifts his gaze towards the fountain before looking back at her with eyes that held no guile, only truth.

"I saw a man who I considered family seek power through killing his own. I sought to protect my family, to foil his scheme-to create my own destiny," Dastan responds.

"And how did you come to know such things?"

"You would not believe me if I told you," says Dastan, walking towards the balcony that overlooked all of Alamut, " There are a great many things I have seen recently, and they have made me a new man. A man capable of…capable of a higher purpose. A man my father can be proud of."

"Yet you invade my city and kill my people. Is it not your destiny to be a brutal Prince of Persia?"

"I seek to right my wrongs! We make our own destiny Princess," defends Dastan before muttering to himself, "The sand shows a great many things."

"What did you say?" Tamina says turning sharply to glare at Dastan's previous words. "About sand. What did you say?"

"Only that sand hold many secrets buried in its vastness. I have seen its power, and it has revealed the error of my ways."

"You are a terrible liar, Prince Dastan. While that may be true, the look in your eyes says otherwise. What is it that you have seen?" asks Tamina fearing the worst.

"I know about the Sands of Time that are contained beneath the city. I know that the dagger controls its flow. I have experienced its power. You knew this once."

"How-how do you know such things!" hisses Tamina drawing nearer to Dastan, "Such knowledge is kept even from my closest advisors. It is never supposed to leave the walls of Alamut! That is what you came for isn't it Persian? The dagger? It's power?"

"No, we were led to believe that Alamut had forged weapons for the enemies of Persia. You must know my words are the truth. My uncle, Nizam, sought the dagger to turn back time. To erase the actions that saved my father in his youth. He wished to take the throne, to prevent my brothers from ever having been born."

"I do not know what to believe. Your brother, Prince, seeks amnesty from the political backlash of Persia's allies. Is that not why you are to be my husband?"

"If you shall have me," whispers Dastan, and for the first time Tamina realizes how close they actually are. She could feel the humidity of his breath fanning out across her face. All of the sudden his lips looked quite inviting, something about them made her wonder what it would be like to kiss them.

Turning away abruptly Tamina stalks back towards the fountain as she says, "As if I could ever find such an unrefined, sacrilegious, royal swine fit to share my burden of protecting the dagger. But, for the sake of my people I suppose we will just have to get along won't we?"

"You mocked me, you know. In that time. You mocked me at every turn you got," laughs Dastan with disdain. "You lied to me continuously to save your precious dagger. You even tried to seduce me the night we escaped from Alamut, tried to kill me rather, and you would have succeeded if it were not for the dagger."

"It appears that either I am not as good a guardian as I should have been, or you are not nearly the warrior your people make you out to be, Lion of Persia."

Dastan takes steps towards Tamina who still refuses to look him in the eye. "Princess, you dragged me into a whirlwind of danger and trouble with that, that _thing_ you call a gift from the Gods," she glares at him, appalled at his actions before he continues, "I know you find that _I_, this lowly Prince of a nation you so _detest_, could have wielded the dagger, but you have no knowledge of the whole story. The sacrifice and pain it took to prevent my uncle from destroying Alamut, Persia, even the entire world."

"Well then, we have time husband-to-be so why don't you tell me your story of pain and sacrifice," sneers Tamina, "Did you have to give up a concubine? Or was your horse saddled wrong when you rode to massacre my people this morning?"

Dastan blatantly ignores Tamina's rude comments and guides her to sit down at the edge of the fountain, an action she performs with hesitance. However, within moments she has regained her façade of cold serenity, looking intently at Dastan as if silently commanding him to give his story.

"When we met the last time, my brother was marching into the dagger's room as a conqueror intent on making you his wife. He was speaking to you, but you were looking at me. Rather you had taken a very keen interest in my belt and the strange dagger that it held. I had defeated your retainer earlier, and had taken the dagger as a prize. I don't know what possessed you to accept my brother's proposal, but I am willing to bet that you needed to get closer to me. You needed to get closer to the dagger. My brother attempted to take the dagger from me as a gift, but my uncle stopped him. Tus knew nothing of the dagger, but obviously my uncle had other plans. My brother was sent to look for the rumored forges of Alamut, but it was my uncle's ploy to begin the search for the tunnels you collapsed, the tunnels that would lead him to the Sands of Time. I was given the task of presenting you to my father as the one who breached the city. I had not yet procured a gift for him, and Tus gave me the cloak of Alamut's regent. Little did I know that Nizam had poisoned the cloak and moments after I have him the damned thing, it burned him to death. Garsiv immediately labeled me a murderer and you took my hand and led me over the balcony, into the pool below. We made our escape from the city and into the desert," begins Dastan as Tamina is riveted to his story. The Prince recounts her attempted murder/seduction, which resulted in his using the dagger. He reminds her of her constant deceit in the Valley of the Slaves and in Nasaf. The meeting with his uncle is recapped along with the realization that his uncle had framed him for his father's death. He weaves the tale of their reunion in the desert and their capture by Sheik Amar. The Hassansin attack that night is told with brevity as he moves on to tell her of their journey to the Secret Guardian Temple, Tamina's readiness to relinquish her life to stop Nizam, and Garsiv's death. Dastan did not neglect to include their touching conversation at that moment when she was ready to plunge the dagger back into the mountain and fulfill her 'destiny'. "I wasn't ready to let you go then, and I'm not ready to let you go now."

"What happened next?" asks Tamina afraid that if she allowed herself to gaze upon the broken and tormented look in Dastan's eyes she would break.

"We defeated the remaining Hassansins that had not escaped and stole back to Alamut, intent on retaking the dagger from where it rests now. When we arrived in the city Nizam had nearly reached the Sands. Amar's man managed to defeat the spiked Hassansin at the cost of his own life. Nizam naturally raised the alarm, but Amar provided the diversion we needed to sneak back into the palace. I needed to convince Tus that I was not the traitor, so I did the only thing I could. I told him our story," continues Dastan.

"And how did you convince him of this? He couldn't possibly believe such a wild tale," says Tamina quietly not sure what to make of this tale.

"I told him how to activate the dagger. Then I plunged it into my chest," Tamina gasps at Dastan's statement. "You were there watching behind the curtain. I felt your gaze on me as I died. Tus activated that dagger though, and he paid with his life for that as well. Nizam took off with the dagger and we made for the tunnels below the city via a secret passage you opened. Rubble activated the collapsing floor in the tunnels and I barely made it to the Sands' antechamber. There was a Hassansin waiting there. He would have killed me if you hadn't seized his viper and slashed him in the face as it was about to bite. It was in that moment, I knew that I could never be apart from you again. We kissed for a good few moments before we were spurred into action. Nizam was descending from the surface. I fought with Nizam and I had the upper hand before he threw you off the edge of the platform. I caught you, but…but.. I can't continue, Princess."

"No, you have come so far. Please tell me what happened Dastan," says Tamina softly. For the first time she looks at his face, and the pained and shamed expression it holds eats at her heart and serene façade. She reaches out with a slender hand and cups Dastan's cheek and turns his head to face her. "I'm here Dastan. Tell me what happened."

The young Prince takes a shuddering breath, steeling his nerves before finding his voice once again. "Nizam threw you off the platform and I caught your hand. You told me that it was not your destiny to stop him. You told me that it was my destiny and that I had to let you go, that you had fulfilled your purpose. You let go of my hand, and I couldn't keep hold. You slipped away from me and into the darkness. I still remember the fear in your eyes. You weren't ready to let go and neither was I, but you still did it. I fought with Nizam again, but he released the sands. I managed to knock him away and reseal the dagger's hilt, but the released sands took hold. I then found myself here in Alamut just after I had discovered the dagger, and you know the rest of the story."

"It takes courage and a noble nature to undertake what you did Prince," says Tamina- the façade is back in place. "I have no choice, but to believe you for only one who has wielded the dagger could know of such burdens."

Tamina's voice is calm and measured, but inside she is close to snapping. The weight and severity of what had transpired weighs on her mind. She had _died_? It was a heavy concept to come to terms with. And there was the subject of the man before her. Haunted was the best word to describe him. Haunted by the battles, the deaths of his family, haunted by losing everything.

"I believe you Dastan, but I do not know if I can trust you. You scaled Alamut's walls and took the city by force. However, I know you to be a good man. You stopped what you knew to be wrong, and accomplished a great task. You have saved the world and the world shall never know. You gave up the dagger knowing its power-a lesser man would not have done as such."

"I would not expect it to be so, but I was told once that some souls were meant to be together-always not matter how the Sands of Time have flowed."

"Yet you say you wish to make your own destiny. How hypocritical."

Dastan almost snorts at the derisive tone of Tamina's voice. It was just like when they first met. A woman incensed by the conquering of her people. The somber nature of their conversation is lifted.

"Princess, if I may be so bold. Would you grant me a kiss?" requests Dastan extending his hand towards hers. He knows it is completely out of conduct, and that he was putting himself in a difficult situation. Hesitantly she places her much more delicate digits into the palm of Dastan's calloused hand. What could it hurt, right? Tamina rationalized it in her head. They had kissed before, what could be different now?

Pulling Tamina to him Dastan leans down and allows his forehead to touch hers. Raising his left hand to her cheek he cradles her face before allowing his lips to brush hers. He gently presses his lips to hers and holds for a few moments before he realizes there is no response from her. He quickly backs away and turns to face outwards towards the city of Alamut. He should not have pushed her so quickly. She did not remember their journey, the feelings that had grown since their escape from these very walls.

The moment their lips touch she feels it. An electric current passes between them, the roughness of a few grains of amber sand on her moistened lips. The visions all come at once veiled in an amber vortex of sights and sounds. Dastan's capture of the dagger. The king's death from the poisoned regent's cape, and their subsequent escape from Alamut. Her deceit in the Valley of the Slaves, and their eventual capture. The somewhat comical escape from said valley and the Ostrich induced riots. Their positions in the King's funeral procession and Dastan's witty comments. Abandoning Dastan to his uncle. The sandstorm. The Hassansins and their near death experiences. Recapturing the dagger. Dastan's unwavering faith in his brother Tus, and his death. Descending into the caverns and tunnels beneath Alamut to stop Nizam. The death of the final Hassansin and their passionate kiss below the city. Their skirmish with Nizam. And her sacrifice to save the world- her own death.

She remembered it all, but most importantly she remembered Dastan. The infuriating man that had become someone she cared deeply for. She remembered what he said to her before they went to see Tus. "This won't be the last time we'll be together." He had kept his promise then, and he had kept it now. Tears well in her eyes as she opens them to find Dastan's back to her his head hung low, much unlike the man she had taunted in the desert.

"I'm so sorry Princess. Forgive my boldness, I did not mean-" starts Dastan before stopping, his emotions getting the better of him.

"Dastan?" she weakly says his name. His shoulders shift but he remains staring away from her. Shaking she walks forward towards him. Gently she wraps her arms around his torso and rests her head on his armor clad back and whispers to his ear, "You kept your promise. It was not the last time we would be together."

Dastan hears her sweet words flow into his ear and he stiffens. How? She didn't remember moments ago- then how? He spins around in her arms and pulls her to him tightly embracing her. She looks up at him with teary eyes and rests her chin on his chest.

"Tamina…You remember?" he asks looking hopefully down at her perfect features. She nods and tears of joy roll down her face. Without warning Dastan leans down and captures her plump lips in a passionate kiss and this time she does not hesitate to reciprocate. They stand there wrapped up in their own world until they hear loud clapping from the stairs behind them. The two almost spring apart as if caught doing something they should not have. Bis, Garsiv, and Tus stand at the entrance to the courtyard bemused smiles on their faces.

"Brother! I am glad you are taking this proposition so well, but lest you forget, father must give his consent," roars Tus with laughter. Garsiv and Bis laugh along with him amused by the blushing prince.

"Come! Father approaches let us inform him of your desire to wed your Princess. We must prepare gifts for him," says Garsiv tucking his helmet beneath his arm. The three turn to walk back into the throne room. Dastan looks to the stunning woman next to him and lays a kiss to her lustrous brown hair.

"I thought I had lost you forever," says Dastan quietly his head resting atop Tamina's.

"Now or before?" she asks content to stay wrapped in Dastan's arms.

"Both. What made you remember? I thought only the holder of the dagger is aware of its effects."

"The sand, it was on your lips. You were right, the sand does show many things, and it has reunited us."

"Then we are truly blessed my love."

"Perhaps we are my not-so-noble Prince."

"Even now you mock me Tamina. How is that? We are reunited against all odds and you still manage to taunt me at every turn."

"I can't have my husband-to-be resting on his laurels now can I? I must keep you on your toes. I won't have you become bored of me. I intend to keep you forever."

"And you shall, there is no woman who could best you in wit or compare to your beauty."

"Flattery will get you nowhere Dastan. Now, let us greet your father. We must make sure that history does not repeat itself lest we be on the run again."

"Of course my lady," replies Dastan before placing a hand at the small of her back to guide her back inside the palace.

**A/N: So what did you guys think? I saw the movie last week and it got the creative juices moving. Hasn't been Beta'd so if there's any mistakes let me know. Also I'm not sure whether or not to make this a one-shot or an actual story. I guess it could go either way right now so I need you guys to read and review to tell me what you want me to do. Thanks for reading and please don't forget to review!**

**Thanks,**

**GATX-105b**


	2. Chapter 2 Tying up Loose Ends

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted properties herein. All _Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time_ properties belong to Disney, Jerry Bruckheimer, and all other involved parties.

**A/N: Guess what! I'm back, same day too! I've never written this quickly. So, you guys all seem to want a longer story. The aim is to get around 15-20 reviews a chapter so if you guys are willing to do that you'll see more chapters more quickly. If you have an idea for which direction the plot should go in, leave me a review and I will take it into consideration. If you leave me a review with substantial or meaningful comments then I will respond to you although it may take a while. That being said let's get on to the story.**

_Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time- Aftermath_

Ch2. Tying Up Loose Ends

A door opens with a creak and quick but measured steps precede slower ones as they descend into the darkness. Torches light the hallway at the base of the stairs. Barred, spartan cells line the walls, flanking a large iron door at the end. The royal guardsman strides with purpose towards the door and the soldiers standing at attention. Nodding to their superior the two men simultaneously insert skeleton keys into the locks on the door. With a loud clank and a groan the door swings open. Drawing is blade the guardsman looks over his shoulder to his liege and steps into the dimly lit room. Chained to the corner of the cell is a man dressed in what used to be fine robes, the gold thread in the clothing tarnished from the filth in the cell. The man's balding head is streaked with dirt and his feet are bare and caked in dust. His midriff is heavily bandaged and his breathing is labored. A medic squats by the man checking the bandages. The guardsman gestures for the medic to leave as he walks forward to the man and prods him with the end of his blade. The medic quickly gathers his supplies and exits the cell. Shuddering the chained prisoner looks up into the face of the stern guardsman. Yes, he recognized him; he had reviewed the man for his position. Emad was his name, yes, Nizam recognized him. A bold man, but fiercely loyal, a most trusted guard to his brother. Which meant…

"My lord, the cell is clear please enter," says Emad loudly the point of his Damascus steel blade never leaving Nizam's chest. There is shuffling as his brother, King Sharaman, leader of the Persian Empire and the man he had save in his youth. Sharaman looks tired and weary his brow glistening a bit in the humid heat of the dungeons.

When Sharaman and his entourage entered Alamut, he had been in awe of the light airiness of the city and the spirituality that emanated it. He had not expected such a dark and foreboding place to exist in this city of light. A messenger had reached him long before he arrived in Alamut, telling of his brother's betrayal and his adopted son's courage and loyalty. He knew Dastan to be a boy capable of much good, but he had proven himself today that he was fit for great things. The news of his brother though, had proven to be a shock and it shook the aging king to the core. His brother was a man that he trusted with his life and the lives of his children. He had taught Tus, Garsiv, and Dastan that their bond of brotherhood was the sword that protected the empire. As much as Sharaman wished to treat Nizam as if he were any other treasonous criminal, it was obvious that this would not be possible. The man was his brother. He could not afford to be lenient either.

"Hello Nizam," rasps Sharaman his voice is rough with emotion. Nizam shifts his gaze coolly to his brother. As masterful in the art of deceit as Nizam is he cannot veil the tempest-like rage and lust that burned in his wide eyes. The blood loss has robbed him of his guile. Nizam raged at the fact that his plans had been foiled, and lust for the power that emanated from his brother. In his mind the throne was rightfully his. _HIS!_ Not the grey haired man before him.

"Brother," greets Nizam. He watches for the battling emotions in Sharaman's eyes and he finds it. Just beneath the surface as thinly veiled as his own emotions. Sharaman was desperately fighting the urge to forgive the sins of his brother. Nizam smirked internally; this was something he could take advantage of.

"Tell me, Nizam what were you doing with the large quantities of hashish that were found in your rooms back in Nasaf and in your saddlebags?" questions Sharaman before continuing, "Is what Dastan claims true? Are you after my crown?"

Sharaman sighs as his brother only continues to stare. He wondered what was churning within Nizam's head. Even as children Nizam had always been the one with the schemes.

Nizam stares into the wall willing his mind to focus. How could he talk his way out of this situation. They had found the hashish- he had no need of the hallucinogenic leaves. They clouded judgment and left one delusional. His brother would never believe that he was smoking it. Perhaps he could convince him that he was cultivating the Hassansins for further service to the crown. Damn it all! The severe wound that Tus had given him was taking its toll.

"Speak Prisoner!" roars Emad and Nizam is shocked out of his reverie. Sharaman lays a commanding hand on Emad's shoulder and the man relaxes slightly. The blade still never leaves its point on Nizam's body.

"You cannot believe Dastan, brother. He is a greedy street rat you brought in from the slums. He is not blood, a commoner. You must know that he lusts for the crown and its prestige. My true nephews are in danger Sharaman! I have the hashish to reign in the Hassansins! I apologize for disobeying your orders to disband them, but I believed them to be of service to you one day," rambles Nizam, wheezing at the exertion of speaking. His thoughts had been jumbled by Emad's earlier outburst.

"Is that what you think of my son, Nizam? He is family. Dastan is _my_ son and _your _nephew. I raised the boy and I know he gives has no eye to my crown. They searched you when they brought you down here. There was a vial of poison. The type that burns upon contact. Hassansin poison. You have plotted against my life and the life of my family. It seems we have nothing left discuss Nizam," says Sharaman with authority, his eyes cold with determination. He turns to Emad and says, "Arrange for the traitor's transfer to Nasaf for execution. Make sure he stays alive till then. Send a physician with him." With that Sharaman turns heel and Emad follows him out of the cell motioning for the guards to lock the thick iron door once more.

Above the dungeons, white marble floors sparkle in the late afternoon light. Servants rush to and fro scrubbing, cleaning, and preparing for the arrival of the highly feared dignitary. However, the servants take to their tasks with a sort of reverence for the impending visit. Sharaman may have been feared as the king of the Persian Empire, but he was respected for his wisdom. In all his years as the leader of Persia he had never allowed Alamut to be touched by the Persian army, and word had spread like wildfire of the King's deceitful brother. The Persian army is encamped in the city with only the most highly ranked officers allowed within the walls of the palace. The most trusted Persian soldiers are given guard positions all over the palace. They were hand picked by Tus and Garsiv and led by Bis. Gifts were all examined and opened before being allowed into the palace. Today, for the first time in a long time, Sharaman would enter a foreign dignitary's home not as a conqueror, but as an emissary of peace hoping for alliance.

Arriving at the large gilded front gates of the palace, Sharaman and Emad are joined by the rest of the royal guardsmen. Tus and Garsiv are at the doors pleased to see their father once again.

"Ah, my sons, it is good to see you both in such good health, but pray tell- where is your other brother?" greets Sharaman as he offers both of his blood sons brief hugs.

"Dastan awaits within. He prepares for your arrival, father," says Tus as he turns to walk along side his father, Garsiv mirrors his actions on the other side.

"Hmmm, is that not a job that you usually take pride in Tus?" asks Sharaman as he marvels at the ornate details of the high ceilinged entrance hall. It was not as if Sharaman was a stranger to luxury, but he was unused to the purity of the white and the lack of excessive gilding that was ever so prevalent in his own palaces.

This time Garsiv spoke to defend his older brother. "Forgive us father, but the Princess, High Priestess Tamina, requested Dastan's assistance and all but ordered us out of the palace."

The older man lets out a bark of laughter. His sons all feared, respected, and great Persian warriors had been cowed by a woman who was no doubt half their size. His youngest would do well to marry such a girl. Perhaps she could curb his rash nature. Both Garsiv and Tus look at each other with shock. It was extremely difficult to elicit such a reaction from their father.

Returning to his usual austere demeanor the king asks his sons, "And do you believe this girl to be a good alliance? A good match for Dastan?"

"That remains to be seen, but Dastan appears to be quite taken by her. The bicker as if they were already married," responds Garsiv.

"Taunt and mock would be a more appropriate term brother," interjects Tus with a smile. He had seen the way Dastan looked at Tamina. He thought it a bit strange for his brother to be so smitten with a woman he had only met, but he had seen the devotion in Dastan's eyes. Something else lingered though, a bit of regret and sadness in the midst of the happiness that radiated from Dastan.

King Sharaman looks on with mirth at the way his sons discussed this woman. He had heard tales of the fierce and feisty Princess Tamina, and if she could tame Dastan, then he would have no choice but to approve such a union. He had a desire to see all his sons married. It would give him joy to have another daughter and it would ensure the political stability of Persia's connections with Alamut. Yes, he believed this union would make an old man happy.

White robed servants open the doors to the celebration hall and the officers and officials milling about within the chamber all turn to doors. Upon seeing Sharaman they kneel in respect. In the center of the room is a dais covered in decorative silk embroidery and plush silk pillows. It would serve as Sharaman's throne for the night. Sharaman slowly, but surely makes his way through the throng of people to take a seat on the dais and adjust himself to be comfortable. Although he would not play the part of conquering ruler today, gifts would still arrive en masse. With the austerity of age and grandeur, Sharaman extends his arms outwards and raises his palms up. The people rise and the revelry begins. Doors on the opposite side of the chamber and dozens of white-robed female servants enter the room. They bear trays lavish with exquisite delicacies and drink for the desert-parched guests. Following the servants, a procession of armed soldiers surround a finely dressed white-robed woman and Dastan. Sharaman gazes over at the woman whose face is obscured by the hood raised over her head. The procession fans out and stands at attention in the crowded room. Sharaman raises his right hand for silence and a hush quickly falls over the room.

With their heads lowered, Dastan and Tamina proceed to the dais and Dastan kneels before his father while Tamina remains standing. Her henna decorated hands gently lift the hood back to reveal her face to the monarch. It is clear that he is impressed by her beauty.

"Welcome to the city of Alamut, King Sharaman. I am Princess Tamina. I hope that you find everything to your liking?" says Tamina in greeting offering a hand to Sharaman.

Taking her hand briefly, Sharaman smiles at her and responds, "Thank you for your hospitality your Highness. It is clear that one of my sons has had input for this event. I see that many of my favorites have been prepared. I must apologize profusely for the barbaric manner with which my family and army have entered your city. I had given explicit orders to abstain from breaching your holy city, but alas my brother's trickery has had the better of my sons' judgments. I am relieved that my youngest had the sense to see the error of their decision and halt the attack."

"You apology is accepted great King," says Tamina looking the king directly in the eye. "The gods have blessed you with a son that is wise enough to admit fault."

"Thank you. Speaking of which, Dastan, my son, it has been a while!" says Sharaman. The room is still quiet looking on with great interest. Dastan rises from his kneeling position to see eye to eye with his father at the base of the dais.

"It has been too long father. I am glad to see you in good health. I apologize for the circumstances of our reunion."

"Think nothing of it, my son. A good man would have breached the city walls with minimal loss of life and greatest success. This you did, but you did not stop. A great man would have done as you did. He would have halted the assault and realized the grave mistake he was making. As I said to your brother before you left, a king always considers council, but he always listens to his own heart. Your heart Dastan is a powerful thing. Such action deserves just rewards do you not think so Dastan?" inquires Sharaman.

"I- I want for nothing father. You have provided and that is enough," replies Dastan modestly. Tamina shifts her gaze to glare at Dastan. They had rehearsed this. This was when he was supposed to ask for _her_.

"There must be something you desire. Today another of my sons joins the ranks of 'Great Persian Warrior'! I hear they call you the Lion of Persia now," teases Sharaman. A ripple of laughter shoots through the room. Dastan blushes a bit under his father's intense gaze.

Tus steps forward as his father finishes speaking and decides to take up case for Dastan. "Father, Dastan is too modest. He is brave and courageous, fulfilling our initial goal with limited casualties. When it came down to the line, he followed his heart as you have taught and stayed our hands from committing a great wrong. I believe that Persia and Alamut would benefit from a bond stronger than friendship. A bond between the Princess and our family."

"Then do you suggest that your brother finally marry?" asks Sharaman wryly as if it were the most shocking revelation in the world. He knew exactly where this was going, but he wanted to tease Dastan a bit more. It had been so long since he had the chance to do something that would make his youngest uncomfortable. A father has to keep his sons honest somehow.

"Yes I do father. A marriage between the Princess Tamina and Dastan would be of great honor to our family and beneficial to our empire," Tus answers. Garsiv nods in approval with a smirk on his face a few feet away.

"Well then, Dastan, is this what you desire? Do you desire to take Princess Tamina's hand in marriage?"

"Yes father, I do," says Dastan unsure of what his brothers were playing at, but acutely aware that Garsiv was unsuccessfully trying to stifle his mirth. A small smile is playing at the corners of Tamina's lips as well. Dastan gulped a bit when he saw that. She looked so kissable right now. When his brothers had interrupted them in the courtyard they had just been getting into the swing of things. After guiding her back into the palace, she was the stern Princess once more. Garsiv and Tus had stood around ordering ridiculous things and making jokes at Dastan's expense. With alarming alacrity and a glare that withered Persian Princes, Tamina kindly asked the two brothers that Dastan could help her and that they should leave the party planning to her. Like mutts with their tails between their legs Tus and Garsiv sheepishly shuffled out of the room yelling for their men to accompany them. Dastan and Tamina had remained a respectable distance apart as to not alarm the servants to the nature of their relationship, but she did not object when Dastan slipped her hand into his and linked his fingers with hers. The thought of the afternoon brings a smile to Dastan's lips and his thoughts are interrupted by Tus' hand on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear.

"Stop your daydreaming, you oaf. Father has been trying to get your attention."

Dastan's head springs up with shock. He looks up at his father ashamed only to find that the monarch had a bemused smile on his face. His son had finally found a worthwhile pursuit. The king knew this woman would be a handful, but that this union had been blessed. They would be very happy together. They seemed to share a bond that extended beyond an afternoon together. They had an awareness of each other gained through hardship and tribulations.

"Well son, if you want to marry this beautiful woman, I suggest you ask nicely. I believe I raised you with some manners," says Sharaman. Garsiv breaks out into a fit of snickers, but is silenced with a sharp look of reprimand by his father. The older man prompts again, "Go on then son, I'm not getting any younger."

Dastan takes Tamina's hand and both of them rise to their feet, but Dastan does not stay on them for long. He is back on one knee in a flash looking up at Tamina's soft features. She has a slight frown on her face and her brow is somewhat creased.

"Princess Tamina, would you grant me the honor of your hand in marriage for the betterment of both our nations and for the joy it would bring me to be your companion for the rest of our days?"

Tamina lets a soft smile settle over her features and utters a single word. "Yes."

With that the hall erupts into cheers and the revelry begins again. As soon as Dastan is back on his feet, he is mobbed by his brothers and Bis. They ruffle his hair and make jokes about how _little_ Dastan is finally a _big, bad_ Persian Warrior. Sharaman looks on with pride knowing that his legacy is secure. Despite the heartache of his brother's deceit, the day has brought great joy to the Persian king. Brotherhood is the sword that defends the empire, but love is the shield that makes it strong.

Dastan and Tamina give one another a happy smile, but Dastan's mind is on other things. There are loose ends to be tied up. The Hassansins must be found and captured lest they make an attempt on his family's lives. The traitors within Tamina's religious advisors must be found. There were things to do, and while he was overjoyed that he had not lost Tamina to his uncle and his made desire for the Sands to turn back time, he knew that this peace would not last unless he took things into his own hands. For now, though, he could take a night and just revel in the fact that he was engaged to a woman he had an inkling he was falling in love with.

Across the sands under the luminescent moon, seven ominous figures ride across the dunes cloaked in a swirl of sand. The glow of the sand is ghostly white, portentous to the coming storm.

**A/N: ** **So there you have it ladies and gentlemen. A story that has a somewhat developed plot line now. At least in my head it is. You'll just have to review so that I have the motivation to get it through my fingers and onto the keyboard. So I'm just going to give you a taste of where I'm going. If you didn't know this before, I am a guy. Yes, I am a guy who is writing a story with a romantic sub-plot that isn't so much of a sub-plot as it is an integral part of the story. Don't judge. Despite that, I'm pretty much a guy's guy according to everyone I know, and as such there will be violence, blood, and gore to appease my testosterone levels. There will be fleshed out crass jokes so that I don't have to say them in reality, and can still appease my very small albeit insistent crude, not-so-refined side. So you an expect romance, action, drama, and a happy ending because sad endings leave you wanting more so that the story can end happily. Thanks again to all of you for reading and I hope that you continue to review because unless I get at least an average of 15-20 reviews a chapter this creative train is going to run out of steam. So that being said read and review!**

**Best,**

**GATX-105b**

**P.S. A little side note for those of you who were wondering. Emad is my own character, since they didn't give Sharaman's royal guardsmen names. I did a little research because I'm not remotely Middle Eastern and found out that Emad is an Iranian name meaning "Confidence." Emad will make a reappearance in subsequent chapters and the name will suit his character. Okay now I've really got to sign off cause If I don't finish these financial models for tomorrow's meeting, my boss is going to have my head. G'night.**


	3. Chapter 3: Jumping the Gun

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted properties herein. All _Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time_ properties belong to Disney, Jerry Bruckheimer, and all other involved parties.

_Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time- Aftermath_

Ch3. Jumping the Gun

The revelry lasted late into the night, dancing and performances amused the guests well past the departure of Sharaman to the palace's master guest chambers. Tus and Garsiv entertained themselves with blustering talk of war and manliness while large clay jugs of wine had found themselves in emptied time and time again. A drunken stupor had descended over the celebration. The men had given in to their baser instincts and begun partaking in drunken games to prove their manliness to one another. It was beginning to grate on Tamina's nerves. Her presence at this event had managed to keep Dastan in good behavior. The Prince had not had more than two or three goblets of wine throughout the night, much less than his brothers whose consumption of multiple jugs of wine would most likely result in a very hazy memory of the night's events.

Dastan looked on at his brothers and acquaintances with great amusement. Despite the attendance of his father and the gravity of the situation, the uproar and din of the remaining guests still emulated the camp the Persian army had set up the night before the invasion of Alamut. Tamina lifts her hands to her temples and applies pressure. The noise was getting to her. Emotionally the day had been very taxing. She had feared for the dagger this morning, and in the afternoon it landed right back in her lap. Then Dastan had put her through an emotional rollercoaster with their story, and then kissed her throwing her into a whirlwind of mind-bending thoughts.

Noticing her distress Dastan nudges Tamina with his shoulder causing her to look up at him. "Are you all right," he asks.

With a sigh Tamina answers, "I'm just exhausted. There is no need to be worried. I must pray tonight as well."

"It is well past midnight Tamina, you can pray tomorrow. Let's send our guests on their way," says Dastan before rising to his feet. "Everyone! May I please have your attention!"

The room's boisterous activity halts and all eyes turn to Dastan. "I appreciate your presence here tonight, but it is late and my father has already retired to his chambers. I am afraid that this noise will wake him. I would like to ask that you all leave now and retire for the night."

Slouched drunkenly on some pillows Garsiv howls with laughter. "Who died and made you father Dastan! Have some fun! You've barely had anything to drink! We can go all night if we like," announces Garsiv. Dastan scans the crowd for Tus to aid him in placating their belligerently drunk brother, but he is disappointed to find that Tus has passed out with another jug of wine tucked securely in his arms.

Sensing her fiancé's flagging confidence Tamina is swiftly on her feet. She was frustrated. An all night party was the last thing she needed. Tamina longed to for some quiet tranquility to sort out her thoughts. She needed to pray- the Gods would have an answer.

"I apologize for Prince Garsiv's rude outburst, but what Prince Dastan means to say is that you should all _Go Home. NOW!_" yells Tamina with her patented death glare. This seems to penetrate the drunken haze that enveloped her guests. This was her home and she would be damned if she allowed this disorderly conduct in a place of this stature. Tamina gestures quickly to the servants littered throughout the room and gestures for them to remove the guests. A few of the guards outside the hall enter at Dastan's behest and aid his brothers in retiring to their guest chambers in the palace.

"Thank you Tamina," says Dastan. He is clearly tired, dark circles are visibly present beneath his eyes. With concern she did not know she possessed she reaches up to lay a soft hand on Dastan's cheek.

"Perhaps I should be asking _you_ if you are all right."

"Do not worry yourself with me. I haven't had a good night's sleep in nearly a month. The events of our adventure did not leave me with much time for sleep."

"Yes, I remember. Sleep was not at the top of our list of things to do. Come let us take a stroll to clear our heads and retire for the night."

Taking his hand, Tamina leads Dastan out of the celebration hall into a narrow torch-lit corridor out onto the palace's inner courtyard balcony. It was a full moon tonight. Pale light shines down into the courtyard illuminating the area in a serene manner. Strolling lazily, Dastan and Tamina quietly enjoy one another's company. Presently the come to the doors of King Sharaman's chambers. Two royal guardsmen stand at attention outside the intricately carved doors. Upon seeing Dastan the two guards visibly straighten. They salute the young prince with a slight bow. Dastan acknowledges them and continues to walk with Tamina when another figure enters the hallway coming towards them.

"Prince Dastan," greets Emad who had just turned the corner after having taken care of the transport details for Nizam. Dastan reaches out and shakes Emad's hand firmly. The older man had been responsible for Dastan's combat training in his youth. In a way Dastan looked up to Emad as a pseudo-uncle, a kind of secondary father figure. He had been an unruly child when Sharaman had first adopted him. Dastan had been afraid and unsure of his sudden change of environment. He had grown up a street rat, scrounging at society's scraps to survive. The sudden luxury had thrown him for a loop, causing him to act out. At the beginning Sharaman tried to make Dastan understand the changes that would be occurring, but it was not until Dastan was given over to Emad's tutelage that the rigid discipline that the man demanded showed Dastan that his life would no longer be the same.

"Emad, it is good to see you old friend. I did not see you at the celebrations, did my father not invite you to come?" greets Dastan with a smile. Emad had been the only one he had not lost in Nizam's treachery. However, he remembered the look on the man's face when his father had died. He never wanted to see that disappointment again.

"I had duties to attend to," replies Emad. "The King has much to do, unrest will surely follow news of Nizam's betrayal."

"Of course Emad, I understand," says Dastan. Pulling Tamina slightly in front of him Dastan introduces the Princess to Emad. "I do not believe you have met her highness, Princess Tamina of Alamut, my fiancé."

"Ah, you must be quite the woman to tame Dastan's wild ways. I admit that I was never truly able to cure him of that. It is wonderful to meet you your highness," says Emad bowing slightly. Tamina smiles at the charming older man. She could see some similarities between him and Dastan. It was obvious that this man had Dastan's respect. "Now, if you would please excuse me, I must attend to preparations for tomorrow's council. Good night."

Dastan nods before continuing down the hall with Tamina. Their trek ends as Tamina stops outside a set of large doors and gently pushes them open. A large airy room is dimly lit by candlelight. Incense burns slowly in the corner.

"This is to be your chamber, Dastan," says Tamina before turning to leave. "I must go pray." As she begins to walk Dastan's hand catches her arm, spinning her to look at him once again.

"Promise me that you will get some rest," whispers Dastan as he draws her close, breathing in her scent. She smelled of incense, jasmine, and spice. She was here. She was here with him, Dastan reassured himself.

Tamina shudders at the heat that seems to bloom through her at their close proximity. He was stirring emotions in her that she didn't know existed. She may have remembered their epic journey, but it did not change who she was. She was the Dagger's guardian and that, as she had been taught, always came first. It was not as if she had never been near men, in fact, courtship was no stranger as well. As a Princess of a relatively wealthy nation, and one of the region's most holy cities she had had many suitors come knocking at the gates of Alamut's palace. Rich men, noblemen, they were all self important and self-serving. They treated her as if she was an asset to be gained. She was a stepping stone to greater power and for those who had heard whispers of it, a point of access to the Dagger of Time. Her people treated her with awed reverence, but Dastan, he…he was different somehow. He was not the same as the repulsive, slimy, pompous windbags that sought her hand. There was something else there. Their relationship had been founded on a mutual dislike for one another, a relationship that had grown in the complete opposite direction. He treated her like she was flesh and blood- not alabaster and incense. He was absolutely infuriating at times to be sure, but to _him_, she was simply Tamina, a woman that he had shared an experience with, one that no one but they could remember. When he is near, she wants to do things she would have never dreamed of. He made her reckless, carefree. It was all so confusing. She had a duty to fulfill, and yet she is torn between her brash husband-to-be and the duties she had been raised to perform. She needed to pray, the Gods would have the answers. She needed time.

Tamina lets out a soft gasp as she feels Dastan's lips on her neck hovering over her pulse point. Her heartbeat hitches for a moment as she leans further into him. Her eyes close in the comfort of his proximity. Suddenly her eyes snap open and she pushes out of his embrace, breathing labored. He looks to her with concern in his dark eyes.

"I'm sorry, I- I need some time Dastan. It has been a long day. I will see you tomorrow," says Tamina brusquely shifting her armor back into place and stalking off towards the Dagger's tower.

Dastan stands confusedly in the hallway. They had seemed to get along so well before…what had happened? He runs a hand frustratedly through his stringy hair- he needed a bath. It was all right he would be here in the morning. He wasn't letting go, not this time. With a resigned sigh, Dastan turns and walks into his chambers to retire for the night.

Tamina watches cloaked in the shadows as Dastan shuts the door to his chamber and lets out a sigh. Whether it was a sigh of relief or sadness she could not tell. Part of her had wanted to dash right back into his and arms and apologize for the hurt look on his face. The more rational part of her had held her back. She needed to gather her thoughts. It was all happening too fast.

Dastan tossed and turned that night. In his dreams his father burned to death once again, Garsiv was impaled by the spiked Hassansin, Tus' throat was slashed by Nizam. Tamina. She fell into the black abyss and he was helpless to save her. It attacked Dastan's conscience as he slept. Watching her again fall, fear so potent in her eyes finally woke him. With a strangled cry he shoots upright in his bed. Sweat soaked and half-delirious he stumbles to the window. The sky was no longer an inky black. A tinge of blue had begun to bleed into the night sky. Day approached. The smell of incense invades his senses from the corner. It smelled like her. Not entirely, but she smelt of the same incense. Dastan felt a wave of calm wash over him and slowly he stumbles back to bed.

The moon faded into the sky as the sun crept over the horizon. The night had waned to make way for the coming day. Quickly the desert sun rises to its height awakening the people of Alamut. Markets come to life and the people go about their daily business.

Tamina had prayed briefly last night before retiring, but she was once again in front of the altar by daybreak. She prayed for the strength to balance her desires with her duties. Prayer for an answer to her qualms. They did not come easy, but she had some peace. She had always imagined her husband to be some indifferent man, much older than her. Instead she had found someone, someone so different from what she had ever dreamt of. Dastan was kind, strong, humble, and intense. He was not born into this life. As an orphan in the slums he had seen the cruelty of the world, and he had been shown its good by his father. Dastan was a Prince unlike any she had ever known. He knew the way of the world, and did not possess the air of entitlement that many others she had seen. She had been deep in prayer when she heard a faint cry in the night. Intuitively she knew it was Dastan. Something had transpired. Was he all right? Had something happened to him? Her mind was quick to draw the worst scenario conclusions, but she forced herself to focus on her prayers. Morning would come soon enough and she would see him then. She hoped.

It was nearly noon before the beams of sunlight awoke Dastan. With a groan he pushes himself off his bed landing in a tangled heap of limbs and sheets he rises groggily to his feet. Save for the sheets and his undergarments Dastan is shamefully unclothed. With no notice the doors to his chamber burst open and Tus and Garsiv tumble in with Emad at their heels. They laugh at the wide-eyed expression of surprise on Dastan's face, but groan when the noise aggravates their already pounding skulls. Emad stands sternly behind them.

"Dress yourself Prince Dastan. I may have had a hand in raising you, but that does not mean I wish to see you unclothed," chides Emad clearly displeased that he had to rouse yet another prince from sleep. The King Sharaman had prepared for council early this morning. It was now noon and he had only managed to round up two of the princes. Tus and Garsiv had proven difficult to awaken. It seemed that although both had made it back to their chambers, Tus was the only one to stay in his. Garsiv was found slouched behind a stable wall next to his beloved horse Aksh, grooming brush in hand. Gingerly Emad picks another piece of straw out of the hungover prince's head. Noticing that Dastan had made no move to ready himself, Emad once again says, "Dress yourself Prince Dastan. Your father has summoned a war council. You will be in attendance. Hurry up. The King and Princess Tamina await."

At the sound of Tamina's name Dastan is spurred into action. He very nearly dives behind the screen in the room to dress himself without further embarrassment. His brothers snicker at his actions. The thought of their disgruntled father could not get him to move, but at the thought of keeping Tamina waiting he sprung into action. Soon enough the four make their way to A long assembly room with a large round table around which Tamina and King Sharaman are seated. Advisors of both Persia and Alamut speak quickly to the dignitaries. Dastan, Garsiv, and Tus quickly take their seats and prepared scrolls of information are placed in front of each of them. Emad takes his place at the King's right. A place formerly occupied by Nizam. Dastan looks over to Tamina, hoping to catch her gaze, but her eyes remain focused on the scrolls in front of her.

"Ah, now that my sons have finally risen from their sleep we can begin in earnest," says the King, little amusement present in his voice. "The Princess has been kind enough to explain the situation to me, and with the advice of counsel I believe he have a host of things to do."

The advisors quickly take over the meeting describing their plan to quell any possible rebellions from either Nizam or his followers. Nizam's execution was to be scheduled for two weeks from today. It would be private. Sharaman owed his brother that much, he would not suffer the indignity of dying in public. The remaining Hassansins must be hunted down lest they seek revenge for Nizam. Imperial military presence would increase around Alamut and the empire. This period of political instability could not bee allowed to disrupt the chain of command. The advisors are dismissed and only five remain seated.

"The Princess has also told me that a traitor is amongst her advisors. I have dispatched Emad to discover this man. I am told he is a man with henna on his palms; he will be discovered and taken care of shortly."

"Father, if I may, the Hassansins will expect a full-on assault of the Persian Army. It would be better if a smaller force moves to take them. They would not expect it and the element of surprise will be needed for such an undertaking," says Dastan. Tamina finally looks to Dastan with affirmation in her eyes.

"Hmmm, I will take this into consideration son. Now, let us move to the wedding preparations," says Sharaman as he gestures for the wedding planners to enter the hall. Several women and men enter carrying swaths of rich cloth and scrolls of designs for the wedding. It was quite overwhelming for Dastan to look upon so much attention being paid to a ceremony.

Tus looks at Dastan and shakes his head in mirth. After four marriages this barrage of preparation work no longer fazed him. Garsiv who had been married twice no longer batted an eye at such lavishness, but Dastan who had never had any interest of being involved in his brothers' weddings had but one duty, to stand at their side when they said their vows. Tamina on the other hand had been prepared for this, like many other duties her entire life. She knew what she wanted and quickly voiced her opinions to the planners.

Soon enough and rough plan for the wedding had been drafted. It was to be held in Alamut on the steps of the palace so as to be visible to the people of the city. There was no doubt that dignitaries from all over the empire would be in attendance. The entire base floor of the palace was to be used for the reception. It would be a grand wedding. Sharaman would make sure of that. It was a first marriage, the most important one.

"Well that settles it. In a month's time you are to be married," says Sharaman. Turning to the planners he asks, "This can be done yes?"

"Of course my lord, we will begin the preparations now," replies the man in charge of this whole production as he bows and turns to leave the chambers. The hall is quiet save for the bickering of Tus and Garsiv. Dastan had deigned to involve himself in such immaturity. His eyes were on Tamina.

"Now, sons, I believe it is time for you to take your leave. The Princess and I have details of our alliance to iron out. Perhaps it would do you good to train with Emad. He should have succeeded in his mission by now," says Sharaman eyeing his sons with interest. As if on cue, Emad strides into the hall a bandage wrapped around his left shoulder. The king raises an eyebrow to the injury on his guard.

"I have located and sentenced the traitor within the Princess' court," says Emad reporting back to his King. Tamina looks at the interaction with sad eyes. The guardians had never been tainted before. The man's presence would be missed by all. He was of the inner circle aware of the Dagger's power. Others simply knew that it was a gift from the Gods. There was nothing else that could be done. The man was a threat to Dastan and his family, a threat to the Dagger.

"Very good Emad. Now, I need you fulfill one more task for me," says Sharaman. Emad nods in assent before the monarch continues, "Take my sons outside. I would hate to seem them lose their skills with a blade due to complacency. They are in need of a real teacher once again."

"Of course my Lord. Princes if you would please follow me." Emad turns to leave the room and the Princes stand to follow. Dastan gives Tamina a pointed look and she quickly turns to Sharaman.

"King, if I may have a moment with Dastan," requests Tamina.

"Of course. Emad, take Garsiv and Tus with you first. Dastan will follow," shouts the King from across the room. Dastan stays behind just within the chambers. Tamina rises and quickly crosses the room to him.

"About last night…" starts Tamina only to have Dastan's index finger on her lips silencing her.

"It is all right. I should not have pushed you so quickly Princess. Take all the time you need. I will be here waiting for you when you have decided what it is you want."

Tamina frowns at the way he calls her Princess. It is as if it were not a sign of respect, but rather of the distance he was trying to put between them. She was really beginning to detest that word. Well, she was going to have none of that. She did not want her relationship to progress too quickly with Dastan, but that did not mean that she wanted to regress. They merely had to come to an understanding about what her duties would mean to them as they progressed.

"You know, _Prince_, we are to be married. You may want to get used to using my name. It would be quite odd for us to continue using our titles."

Dastan wanted to groan in frustration. This woman was the most confusing he had ever met. She was warm and inviting one moment and cold and distant the next. "If that is what you wish Tamina," he says hoping to appease her. After her reaction last night he did not want to press his luck. Their eyes lock and similar thoughts run through both their minds. Tamina knew Dastan had not slept well last night they would have to talk about that. Dastan, on the other hand, knew she would not listen to him. She must not have gotten more than two hours of sleep.

"We will talk tonight Dastan. We have much to discuss," says Tamina softly losing the prickly exterior that Dastan was accustomed to. He nodded solemnly. "I will see you tonight then?" asks Tamina with a smile.

"Of course, Tamina. Till then," replies Dastan. Before he can turn to go, Tamina surprises herself and Dastan by standing on her tiptoes placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. He smiles back at her then and takes his leave.

Sharaman watches their interactions with great interest. It seemed that their marriage would be quite the epic to view.

Outside Tus and Garsiv are already garbed for battle. Their blades are drawn a shamshir and a scimitar respectively. Emad favors a longer scimitar like Tus. The two princes glance at one another and proceed to unleash a flurry of blows on their father's retainer. Gracefully Emad ducks and spins beneath their blades. Quickly they are put on the defensive despite Emad's greater age and number disadvantage. Within moments Emad taps both Prince's on the back of their skulls.

"Again!" barks Emad and the dance begins once more. They sweep and slash with great fervor gracefully parrying the blows of their opponents. Dastan presently descends into the dirt packed area of the stables where Emad has begun training. Again he is garbed in his unorthodox armor with his two curved blades strapped to his back. Emad sights him and signals for the brothers to stop. They are out of breath and panting in the harsh sun. Emad has barely broken a sweat despite the wound on his shoulder.

"Now that your brother is here, you will train against yourselves. I will correct your form and you will take turns fighting two-on-one. Understood?" orders Emad. The three nod and Dastan is the first to face off against his other brothers. He looks around the enclosed area. The environment would be to his advantage. He had always been uncannily good at climbing things. With a shout they begin their fight Dastan pushes his brothers back quickly, but the tide turns without warning. Tus and Garsiv, determined nor to be outdone by their little brother use their numbers to their advantage and push Dastan back into a corner. They were drawing nearer and nearer to pinning their brother down. Even with two blades he would not be able to hold out against the two of them. With a smirk Dastan suddenly turns his back to them and performs a bicycle kick off the wall landing on his feet behind his stunned brothers. With ease he taps his brothers in the back with his blades and their shoulders slump in defeat. With an easy laugh Dastan, mocks his brothers for falling prey to his tricks.

High above Tamina watches from the window of her chambers. Dastan was a fine warrior and would make a good leader. She knew it. She was only afraid that he had so quickly broken through her cold shield and acerbic wit to find the woman inside. He was clouding her desire to fulfill her duties, but for once she found that she did not care.

The afternoon continued in much the same manner. The boys remained training outside without respite against their tireless tutor and themselves. As the sun began to dip below the walls of the palace, the Princes and Emad sat on the bales of hay set out before the stables taking a respite from their training. Glasses of water filled their hands as they drank greedily.

"I see your legend never fades Emad," groans Tus as he downs another cup of water. The training had drained him of his strength. Emad had earned his name as a fearsome swordsman in the King's army before he was called to join the royal guard. Many had called him the Persian Hawk as he struck often from above.

"Ah, but I cannot remain young forever. Your father's emissary to the Far East- the boy, Ashlan, has returned, his own legend following in his wake. He returned to Nasaf only a week ago. He has trained and learned for many years in the Orient. He uses blades of great strength in a style the like of which we have never seen in Persia. He has bested me in a duel. Your father was impressed. He has been dispatched to Babylon to oversee the treasures housed there. They call him a tiger, and it may very well be true."

"Ashlan!" exclaims Garsiv, "That boy who was half, something or other? The one whose mother had the strange golden hair?"

"The very one Prince Garsiv. He is a great warrior now, perhaps you shall see him soon."

Their attention is drawn to a servant by the entrance to the stables. She walks towards them stopping a few feet away.

"My Lords, dinner will be served shortly. King Sharaman and Princess Tamina request your presence. Baths have been drawn for you in your respective chambers. Please follow me," she says before leading the dirtied men inside the palace.

After being scrubbed and plucked and cleaned to furthest extent possible, the Princes are released from their baths to be dressed in clean clothing, a luxury they had not had in many days. They walk to a smaller dining room decorated with luscious tapestries. The King is already seated when they enter. He sits at the head of the table an open balcony to his back. The sky is visible, turning orange and purple with the setting of the sun. Tus and Garsiv take seats on one side of the table leaving Dastan to sit by himself on the other. Moments later Tamina enters the room, the very vision of beauty in a crème colored dress with silver thread embroidery. A servant pulls out a chair for her and she gracefully sits next to Dastan. As soon as she is seated servants enter with platters of food, which they tuck into without hesitation. Conversation flows easily between them. Course after course is served, and by the end the diners' appetites are quite sated. The King motions for more wine to be poured. Despite this being Tamina's palace, the King held some power here as well. She was to join his family, and he was the head. As tradition and duty had decreed she would defer to him.

"Now that we are all satisfied," begins Sharaman looking at the people before him, "I must return to Nasaf tomorrow, but I have come to a decision on how to deal with the Hassansin threat. This must be dealt with before your wedding Dastan. The entire royal family will be in attendance, which presents great risk for us. You, Dastan, will ride with Bis and the rest of your men to seek out the Hassansins and defeat them. You leave tomorrow."

"Father, I- I do not wish to seem rude, but would I not be needed here to aid in the wedding preparations?" asks Dastan. He is loath to leave Tamina even for a short time. It was difficult enough for him to be apart from her in the same building, but now he would be a desert away from her. What would he do if something were to happen?

"You will do this my son. Garsiv will stay here in Alamut and aid the Princess with whatever she needs. Tus will return to Nasaf with me. It has been decided."

"But father!" grinds out Dastan before Tamina places a stern hand on his bicep forcing him to drop back into his seat, deflated.

"Dastan will go. I trust he will be back in time for our wedding. The Gods will bless his mission. I will see to it that they do," says Tamina serenely and with confidence. The King, Garsiv, and Tus soon leave the dining room after Tamina's declaration of confidence in Dastan. Agitated, Dastan retreats to the balcony outside to catch the last vestiges of the sun disappearing over the horizon. Stepping tentatively onto the balcony Tamina leans against the balcony next to Dastan.

"Are you so eager to be rid of me, Tamina?" asks Dastan staring off in the distance.

"No, I'm not. I simply know that you are the best man for the job. When you marry me, it will also fall to you to protect that dagger. You know of its power, you know what is at stake here. I can trust you to do what is necessary."

"Again with that accursed Dagger! Is that all that matters to you?"

"No, but it is important that you remember that it comes before all else."

"It does not. I made that mistake before. If it ever comes down to protecting you or that damned Dagger, it will always be you," says Dastan, Tamina opens her mouth to protest, but for the second time that day he stops her with a finger. "I already lost you once trying to protect that thing. I won't let it happen again."

"But what if it _does_ come down to that? You must choose the Dagger. It is paramount that-"

Dastan pulls Tamina into a tight embrace not unlike the one last night. In the amber glow of the fading sunlight, Dastan swears that he has never seen a more beautiful creature. Surprised by his sudden action and again by the nearness they seemed to share, the words cease to flow from Tamina's mouth.

"We will find a way," says Dastan intending to continue, but it is her turn to cut him off.

"You must promise me not to be an emotional fool. If it comes down to it you must protect the Dagger. Promise me Dastan," she says looking up into his eyes. She knows that her eyes show no hesitation. Her life in exchange for the Dagger's safety it has always been that way, and it would continue to be so, if she had her way. However, looking into the Prince's eyes, Tamina could see that he was a serious as she was. This was no game to him. He did not disagree with her to mock her, he meant it when he said he would choose her life over the Dagger. With that a revelation dawns on her. They had succeeded in forming a relationship because their goals had coincided. In that time she hoped would never come to pass again, they both knew they had to protect the Dagger. Tamina because it was her duty and Dastan because the Dagger held the key to clearing his name. How had the line become so blurred?

Dastan rests his forehead on Tamina's much in the way he had back in the courtyard. "You know I can't do that Tamina. I care too much for you to let that knife take your life."

If Tamina were to be honest with herself, she was a bit flattered by his declaration. She knew he had not said that he loved her in voice, but the look in his eyes told otherwise. The way she felt when he held her. The way their bodies fit together. His hands fit perfectly on her hips as he held her close. They were the perfect size to intertwine with hers. This was destiny. The Dagger was her duty, but somewhere inside, even if she did not want to admit it, Dastan was her destiny. He could not be without her, and she, grudgingly, could not be without him.

"I know," she whispers. "I know how much you care for me. I won't ask you to choose then, but I need to know you'll do everything in your power to protect the Dagger. That includes riding to finish off the Hassansins."

"Thank you," Dastan breathes. He is relieved that she has given up on convincing him to choose that stupid dagger over her. "I will go then, if it will put you at ease."

"Be careful Dastan. You owe me a wedding," smirks Tamina. Dastan's response is to pull her closer if that were possible. For the first time Tamina notices that her arms are loosely wrapped around Dastan's neck.

"I wouldn't dream of missing it, but let's put that tongue to better use, yes?" whispers Dastan.

"Yes, let's," responds Tamina before closing her eyes. She can feel Dastan's breath warm on her lips. When they touch it is just as electric as before. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Their lips move in tandem. Insistently Dastan's tongue makes its way into her mouth. They duel for supremacy. Tamina had never felt such passion before. The affection Dastan holds for her is palpable, she can feel it. At this moment the dagger is the last thing on her mind, and she has no problem with it, in fact she basks in his attentions. When they finally separate for air, she is out of breath. By the uneven rise and fall of Dastan's chest, he is as well.

"Gods, you're good at that," breathes Dastan. If Tamina is surprised she does not show it. Instead she allows a smug look to settle over her face. She is inexperienced in the realm of intimacy, but if the look on Dastan's face was anything to go by then she must be doing something right.

"Good, then you'll know what you're missing if you don't come home. Now go get those Hassansins," says Tamina before wiggling out of Dastan's arms to lead him back inside.

Dastan grins at the development in their relationship. She had told him to come _home_. She cared, even if she had an odd way of showing it. He knew he had responsibilities, but hew he would be damned if he didn't fight tooth and nail to return to Tamina.

Life was good. At least it would be for the next few hours. In the morning he would leave to secure his future, he could only hope that it would all go as smoothly as planned.

**A/N:** **Okay! Another chapter done, and it's long. In fact, I think it might be nearly twice the length of the first two. So there's more relationship development here. I know you all wanted that. The action is to come because, come on, when does anything ever go as planned? So, chocoholic12 mentioned the cheesiness of the proposal. Dastan's character doesn't seem to include the qualifications of scholar. He came up with it on the spot under pressure, so I think the line reflected that. Liz wanted more 'feisty' Tamina, but I think I toned it down a bit this chapter. It'll lose its effect if it's used too often, but there's a dose of it at the beginning! Not much Hassansin action this chapter, but they're coming back very soon. The plotline's been put together for the next few chapters so review! And review quickly, and you'll get that chapter sooner! Also, I know there's a lot of you out there that have put this story on alert and/or favorited it and haven't reviewed. If you enjoyed it enough to do that then please review! It will benefit you, I promise. If you give me a substantial suggestion then I can work on making the story more of what you want to read. So with that said, I'm out!**

**Best,**

**GATX-105b**


	4. Chapter 4: Midnight Caravan

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted properties herein. All _Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time_ properties belong to Disney, Jerry Bruckheimer, and all other involved parties.

**A/N: I'm back, and I'm sorry for the delay. It took me a while to write this chapter, and it took you guys a while to get to the target review goal. That being said, it was kind of disappointing that I didn't get more reviews. By the numbers I have 42 "favorites" and 62 "alerts" and only 60 reviews. So, I am hoping to get more reviews for this chapter because although I write for my own pleasure, I also do it for you guys. I need feedback to make the story better for you. It also lets me know that someone out there appreciates what I do, and that spurs me on. Now that that's out of the way, here's to more reviews for this chapter and keeping this story interesting for you guys.**

_Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time- Aftermath_

Ch4. Midnight Caravan

The covered wagon creaks and shakes as the soft crunch of sand emanates from beneath the wheels. The medic, an older gentleman, sits against the edge of the vehicle. It had been a long day. The sun had beat down mercilessly as the man tried to keep his grievously wounded patient alive as they trekked through the desert. The retinue of guards that had been assigned to them were not much help either, tirelessly moving even when the sun was at its highest. Now, early into the night they still trekked, hoping to arrive in Nasaf the next day.

Nizam lies prone on the floor of the wagon unmoving, his breathing a hitched wheeze. The heat had not been gentle to the man. His wound was worsening with the constant jostling in the cart. Silently the man cursed his rash actions on the steps of Alamut's palace. If he had not drawn his blade there would still be hope for his plan yet. The medic sighs from across the wagon. The constant squeaking of the wheels finally stop. The guards are speaking in hushed tones.

"We stop here for the night!" barks a voice. It must be the guard officer in command. Flint is sparked and fires release black smoke into the cloudless night sky. The low thrum of a reed flute echoes hauntingly through the air. Everything is silent. The guards look for the source of the noise still seated in front of the fire.

Chaos erupts. Sharp steel darts whistle through the air embedding themselves in two guards' chests. Struggling to their feet they draw their blades. Suddenly black balls roll over the nearest dune and explode into flames. Men run burning and screaming in pain. The guards yet unharmed by the sudden ambush do not hear the insistent hissing from behind them. Two vipers shoot from the sands and latch onto the men's throats. They are dead before they hit the ground. Quiet permeates through the campsite once more. The horses connected to the wagon neigh in discomfort. Inside, the Medic whimpers and cowers in fear. What was happening? Who would dare attack an armed Persian caravan?

Sharply the rough cloth covering the entrance to the wagon is wrenched backwards. Screaming in surprise the medic rises to run to the other end and the other exit. It too is suddenly torn from its place. Hassansins, dressed in black, faces covered by the black cloths step silently into the wagon. Their presence is oppressive. The medic feels stifled. Terror has seeped into his bones wilting his frail countenance.

One Hassansin bears a giant scimitar, one longer than his arm. The other appears to be unarmed, but is far more menacing than the rest. His face is as pale has the moon, his eyes- an ice blue unlike anything the medic has seen before. The man removes the cloth from before his face. A cruel smirk lies on his lips while a mottled, gruesome scar mars the right side of his face. At the sight of the Hassansin leader's face the Medic falls to his knees and a quickly tries to scramble backwards only to collide with the feet of the other man.

The scimitar wielding Hassansin swiftly kicks the medic out of the way and crouches to assess Nizam's condition. The injured man opens his eyes blearily to see the Hassansin looking down at him.

"He is faint, but he is alive, sir," hisses the Hassansin in a low voice. The snake controlling leader looks idly over at Nizam before looking back to the cowering medic.

"P-please! Please let m-me go. I haven't done anything wrong!" grovels the Medic his off-white robes quickly staining with the tears that leaked from his eyes. "I never saw you and your men! Don't kill me please!"

"Kill you?" smirks the Hassansin leader bending down to look the medic in the eyes. Slowly a viper rises out of the collar of the Hassansin's robes to hiss at the medic. Its forked tongue darting out to flick the fearful man's nose. "You make me laugh medic. Why would I kill you? I need you. You're coming with us."

With a bone-chilling smile the Hassansin leader hauls the sobbing medic from the wagon. Dumping the man on the sand, he turns to his bomb-throwing companion. "Burn everything," he orders.

Flames burning, the Hassansins lay Nizam across the back of two horses and place the medic on another. With that done they slip into the night to the sound of shifting sand and galloping hooves.

Hours later, near midnight, a man appears over the dunes, expecting his companions to be where he left them. To his horror he sees the black, acrid smoke and the bloodied bodies strewn across the desert sand. Spurring his horse on he dismounts in the middle of what used to be the camp. Carefully the man, a Persian scout, checks each of the faces, seeing men he had trained with, men he had fought with. Spikes protrude from several men's chests and burns cover the entire bodies of others. Fang marks mark two of the guards' necks, viper bites, fatal blows. A cough echoes through the night. There is sputtering as the scout rushes over to another man, spikes had punctured his lungs, but he was still barely there, clinging to life by a thread. Blood bubbles and froths from his mouth staining the sand around him red.

"What happened?" asks the scout in horror. There was no retaliation here, it was a massacre.

"Black riders…Hassansins, so fast, so strong…we couldn't stop them. They- they took Nizam…" wheezes the man.

"Hassansins?" asks the man in surprise. The king had ordered them disbanded. With strength that the dying man should not have had, he seizes the collar of the young scout and pulls him down to whisper in his ear.

"Ride. Ride quickly. You must warn the king, the traitor is gone. You must warn the king…the king…"

Suddenly the dying guard's breath hitches and his chest no longer rises and falls. Closing his eyes in despair the young scout looks around him tears stinging his eyes as he rises. The king would leave for Nasaf in the morning. He had to reach Alamut in time. Swiftly the scout gathers what supplies are left and rips a few spikes from another guard's prone body as proof of the Hassansin attack. Mounting his stallion, the sharply digs his heels into the beast's sides and gallops off into the night. The King must be warned…

Leagues away nestled into the mountains a large man seated regally on an impressive shaggy black stallion rides into a small village. Huts and houses made of wood and thatched roofs dot the landscape. Reaching the center of the village the man dismounts his steed. Fur lines his boots and the edges of the hood that covers his face. Walking to the door of the largest house he raises a large, black, gloved hand and knocks loudly on the door.

The door creaks open and a frail old woman peeks around the door. She is draped in a white robes a white cloak completing the ensemble. She looks up at the imposing man and furrows her brow.

"What do you want stranger?" she asks warily glancing around the surroundings. The man wears a black cloak, a white shirt beneath what appears to be lamellar armor.

"I apologize for waking you, but I am lost. I do not come from these lands, but I am in need of directions," says the man congenially despite his large, imposing form.

The door opens more as the old woman stands fully before him appraising the man before her. He extends a black, gloved hand to the old lady. She takes it and shakes his hand. A strange look overtakes her eyes. The blood drains from her face. With a groan she collapses to the floor- ashen and dead. The last thing she sees is the rabid grin on the man's face and the cold, deadened red color of his eyes. Toeing the now deceased old woman aside with a large booted foot, the man strides into the cottage. Three other women all dressed in the same white robes stand defiantly by the fireplace. One even holds a decorated shamshir in her hands.

With a smirk the man places two fingers into his mouth and whistles. Swiftly he kicks the door shut. Outside, a mob of men, armored and armed descend upon the small village. Doors are kicked in, people are killed, and the people that do not resist are herded into the center of the village. Screams echo through the mountains, the clang of blades slicing through flesh rings through the night.

Inside the cottage, the large man smiles as blood, warm from the veins of his victims drips from his gloves and the tip of a long wicked blade that hands loosely in his grip. Looking down at the table the women were huddled before, he sees a scroll. The words are foreign to him, but the decorations, the depictions of power make perfect sense.

To no one in particular the man whispers, "Persia will be mine…"

The night begins to fade as the sky pales from its inky blackness to deep navy blue. A dusty, panting horse and its rider streak through the gates of Alamut, hooves pounding all the way to the gats of the palace. The rider wearily reveals the seal of the Persian king to the guards at the gates. After a quick inspection, he is admitted into the palace. The man quickly seeks out the chief guard on duty. Dust still drifting from the folds in his clothes and armor, the man recounts his tale of terror to the officer and requests to see the King. Striding with purpose down the white marbled halls of the palace, the officer is admitted into the King's chambers by the royal guardsmen outside. In the antechamber, Emad has risen to greet the two men.

"What brings you here at this time of night?" Emad demands, "His majesty is still sleeping. Come back in the morning if this is important."

"Please, I must speak to the king now!" whispers the man loudly. Emad takes in the man's visage wondering where he had seen him before. It dawns on him. This was the scout that had been sent with the caravan dispatched to bring Nizam to Nasaf. Knowing something to be terribly wrong Emad nods and leaves to wake the King.

Deep in slumber the King dreams of peace, prosperity, and grandchildren. The peaceful nature of his sleep is disturbed by a hand softly shaking his body. Slowly the images of future grandchildren fade into the blackness and his eyes slowly open. Sharaman looks up to see Emad with a grim look on his face. His retainer would never wake him for something trivial. Swiftly, albeit slower than he used to, Sharaman rises from bed dressing in simple, but lavish robes and follows Emad to the sitting area in the antechamber of his guest quarters.

The scout is sitting, fidgeting in the chair he has been seated in. Emad emerges from the King's chambers with the King in tow to sit in front of the man.

"Explain what has happened," orders Emad. The man begins mumbling, stuttering, something about burns, snake bites, and spikes.

The King quickly grows frustrated. "Calm him down. Get the man some wine!" barks Sharaman to a servant standing in the corner of the room. With a nod and a slight bow the woman runs to the clay jugs arranged atop a cabinet in the room and returns with a silver goblet of wine. As she places it in front of the terrified scout he seizes it and downs it in a few gulps. Exhaling audibly the man sits for a moment to collect himself. Feeling the alcohol taking hold the man looks up into the eyes of his king.

"My king. We were transporting your brother to Nasaf when we stopped for the night. I was ordered to scout ahead for a clear path towards Nasaf. I was gone for no more than an hour. I saw smoke in the distance, but thought nothing of it. I believed that the men had set up camp. When I returned everyone was dead. The caravan had been burnt and the men lay dead or dying in the sand. Some men had metal spikes in their chests," reported the scout. He pulled the metal spikes from a bag he had placed on the table. Emad picks up the spikes to examine them and motions for the scout to continue, "Other men had been burned very badly and slashed by swords. Two of the men had viper bites to their necks."

"What of my brother?" asks Sharaman fearing the worst. The scout swallows another mouthful of wine before answering.

"He was not there my lord. His body was not part of the debris in the wagons. I found one of the guards alive, but quickly fading. He told me…he told me that Hassansins had ambushed them. They took your brother and the medic. I was ordered by him to come and warn you. I rode as fast as I could. I-"

"And you have done well. My servants will guide you to empty quarters for you to rest," says Sharaman cutting off the scout. He dismisses the man and motions for Emad to lean down so that he can speak into his ear. "My old friend, gather my sons and my advisors. The situation is much more grave than I expected."

Emad departs with great speed gathering several other troops as he goes dispatching them to all corners of the palace to gather the advisors and princes. Garsiv is found in his chambers although in a rather compromising situation with a serving girl. Tus is asleep in his chambers as well. He was easy to rouse as he was not inebriated as he was the previous night. Dastan, however, was nowhere to be found.

Tamina and Dastan had been deep in conversation the entire night. After their departure from the dining room they had roamed the halls of the palace until finally they had ended up before the doors to the temple. Dastan knew what the place held. Entering the dimly lit room, the smell of incense hits him and memories bombard his senses. The pillar in which the dagger is stored is closed, an amber glow flickering within. Tamina had set about examining the minute details of the room to make sure everything was in order. Noting her extreme concentration Dastan sits at the base of a pillar to wait for her to finish. Noticing that her betrothed had taken a seat she sighs and lets the prayer cloth slip out of her hands. Walking softly to him she sits down beside him and waits for him to speak. He does not say anything but takes her hand in his own and they lull into a comfortable silence. Neither of them know how long they sat in silence, but the sound of running boots and shouts of soldiers alerts that something has transpired. The two rise to their feet and depart the temple. As they descend the tower, Emad comes into view jogging in the opposite direction.

"Prince Dastan, thank God I have found you. Your father requires your presence. There has been an incident with the traitor," says Emad before gesturing for them to follow. They race through the halls, Tamina keeping up as best she can in her long dress. Thoughts race through Dastan's head. Emad sounded alarmed. Few things could alarm such a seasoned warrior. And this situation having to do with his uncle? This could only mean that the Hassansins had struck.

The trio arrives at the door to the King's chamber. Dastan and Emad enter without problem, but the guardsmen at the door move to bar Tamina's entry into the chambers. She tries to push past them, but to no avail.

"What is the meaning of this?" demands Tamina, the fire in her eyes is bright. She may be betrothed to a Prince of Persia, but that did not mean she had let go of all dislike she had for the Persians.

"I apologize Princess, but I was ordered that only the Princes and the King's advisors be allowed in," says the guard without looking at Tamina. Tamina laughs in defiance.

"How dare you?" she screeches, further incensed by the man's rude behavior. "This is my home, and you _will_ let me into these chambers. Do not test me Persian for I will call my own guards to remove you."

"Please, let her in. This is her city, if the situation endangers Alamut, she should be allowed to join in the meeting," says Dastan. The guardsmen pay him no heed continuing to counter Tamina's efforts to enter.

Dastan stares on unsure of what to do. His father had ordered only he and his brothers be allowed in along with the advisors, but Tamina was the ruler of Alamut. He found himself torn between obeying his father and defending the woman he was betrothed to. Hearing the commotion from the doorway the King rises from the table where he had been examining a map with the scout and his counsel. Stalking angrily to the door he drinks in the sight before him. Dastan was standing helplessly like a dumb mute, and his guardsmen had Tamina by the arms who was still attempting to gain entry to the room.

"What is the meaning of this!" roars King Sharaman. The guardsmen turn to look at their King. Dastan spins around unaware of his father's presence and Tamina temporarily ceases her struggles to look up at her future father-in-law. "I asked a question!"

"S-sire, we were only doing what you requested. No one but the Princes and your advisors were to enter," stutters one of the guards.

"I may give orders, but you have to have half-a-brain and interpret them. This is Princess Tamina's city! This situation will affect Alamut. Now let her in and keep everyone else out. Now!" orders Sharaman. Immediately the guards withdraw their hands from Tamina and she shoves her way in, not so subtly kicking each of the guardsmen in the shins. Dastan smirks at this and she just glowers back at him.

"You did an impeccable job defending me from those buffoons, _Prince Dastan_," she whispers sarcastically as she skims past him. The façade of the guardian is in place, but the sarcastic comment is most definitely Tamina. Dastan had come to realize that the Tamina he knew was a completely different woman from the Guardian of the Dagger. The line may be a bit vague, and traits may bleed over, but they had distinctly different personalities.

Shrugging in resignation, Dastan follows closely at Tamina's heels. Garsiv and Tus stand around their father studying the position that the scout had marked on the map. It was not that far from Alamut for a single rider to cover in a day, but for a caravan it was a considerable distance.

Tamina immediately joins in the debate on an appropriate course of action for the situation. Garsiv is adamant that a larger force ride to meet the Hassansins in battle. Tus on the other hand favored Dastan's earlier suggestion of a smaller force. Despite the tight bonds between the brothers, Tamina is acutely aware of the difference in their personalities. Tus is politically minded, suited for a ruler. He sees diplomatic routes and battle as a secondary option. Garsiv on the other hand, it appeared that the man had war pumping through his veins. He was hot-headed and believed that full-frontal force could stop anything. After considering his brothers, Tamina's mind automatically shifts to Dastan. She could not figure him out. There was a bit of both in the youngest prince, but there was something else as well.

King Sharaman pushes the two older princes back out of his personal space. The two's argument had almost resulted in their coming to blows over their father's head. "That is enough," says the King evenly. Anyone in the room could tell the man was tired and that he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed.

"It is apparent that these Hassansins are what is left of the corps from when I ordered them disbanded. The most likely took Nizam to obtain the hashish he had stockpiled," continues the King.

"Then how much of a threat do they pose?" asks Tus arms crossed. Tamina and Dastan glance at each other.

"They present a much greater threat than you think," says Tamina. The King, Garsiv, and Tus look at her with an expression of puzzlement.

"What makes you say that?" asks Garsiv. Dastan places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

"Nizam attacked Alamut for no reason. There is no saying that he will not attack my city again for revenge," responds Tamina with fervor, easily sidestepping the loaded question that Garsiv had asked.

"I cannot spare more of my sons to dispatch these murderers. What would you have me do Princess," asks Sharaman.

A silence settles over the room. Dastan finally speaks up, "Father, I will go. It was to be my task anyway. Allow me to take Bis and my men. We will find the Hassansin and succeed in their destruction."

"You will need more skilled men to defeat such men. They have proven powerful adversaries with their ambush of the caravan," begins Sharaman. Turning to Emad he says, "Send for Ashlan. Dispatch a messenger pigeon to Babylon. Send the map as well."

"Of course my lord," says Emad before leaving the chambers to accomplish his task. Tus and Garsiv look worried that their little brother was being sent to dispatch such a fearsome foe.

"Father, allow me to go with Dastan. We will have a greater chance of success if I accompany him," says Garsiv, determined not to be left out of the action.

Sharaman shakes his head, "I need you to stay here and defend Alamut while your brother and I return to Nasaf. Dastan will handle this on his own."

"Garsiv, I can do this. I have a responsibility to the people of Alamut and to Persia," interjects Dastan without trepidation. Garsiv looks at his brother. Dastan was usually the life of the party. One could always find him drinking with his men or engaging in behavior perhaps not-so-suited for royalty, but when it mattered he could take the situation seriously. However, this was different. Ever since the Persian Army had occupied Alamut and Dastan had met Tamina, he had changed. Dastan had mellowed out. No longer did the Prince drink to the point of drunkenness, nor did he partake in any unsavory activities. He did not look twice at the pretty serving girls. Something had changed the man-child into a true Prince of Persia.

The King's chambers gradually empty and Sharaman can finally return to his slumber. Atop the walls of Alamut's palace, Emad attaches a tightly tied package to the carrier pigeon in his hands and releases it in the direction of Babylon. Ashlan would be a great asset to Prince Dastan on his journey. The orders in the letter were simple. Ashlan was to ride to the point indicated on the map and join with Dastan and his men to track down the Hassansins. Emad prayed to God that this mission would be swift and easy, but in his heart he knew that there was great danger in this undertaking.

Below, in Dastan's chambers, he emerges from behind the screen, face clean and dressed only in his pants. His mind drifts to the nightmares he had experienced the previous night and prayed that they did not haunt his consciousness again. Perhaps hunting the Hassansins and his Uncle would give him the peace he needed. A quiet knock comes at the door. Dastan quirks his eyebrows in confusion. The entire palace should have been asleep by now. Opening the door a crack he peers into the darkened hallway to see Tamina standing in white unadorned robes unlike the ones she wore to pray.

"Tamina, what are you doing here?" asks Dastan opening the door more fully. Tamina says nothing, but breezes by him into the chamber. Dastan shuts the door after her and turns to face his wife-to-be. She is seated at the foot of his bed deep in thought. Again Dastan asks, "What are you doing here, Tamina?"

She looks up and stares, with a soul-searching gaze, into Dastan's eyes. "I can't choose you."

"Wha- I don't understand what you're saying Tamina. Do you want to call off the wedding? I mean if you do not wish to-"

"Shut up and let me speak," says Tamina cutting Dastan off, "You said that you would choose me over the Dagger, no matter what happened."

"Yes, of course-" begins Dastan only to be stopped once again.

"I can't do that," continues Tamina. Dastan only looks at her with a confused look on his face. "I can't choose you over the Dagger. I cannot choose you over the fate of the entire world." She looks intently at Dastan who has not said anything in response to her statement. "I understand if you do not wish to marry me. You deserve someone who can fully return the sentiments you feel, but…"

"I didn't ask you to," says Dastan calmly. He understood where Tamina's insecurities were coming from. She had been raised to do one thing, well rather many things, but one thing above all. Protect the dagger. Even if it means your own life, protect the dagger. That was what this beautifully tragic woman had been taught. Now it is her turn to look at him with confusion. "I didn't ask you to choose me over the dagger. I know that the duties of a guardian are part of you and I accept that. I accept all of you for who you are. I would _hope_ that someday our feelings run deep enough that you would choose me, but I cannot force you nor will I ask you to."

In a way Tamina is horrified by the easy manner in which Dastan spoke. This would be a horribly one-sided relationship. He wanted her and was willing to accept her for all her faults, even after all the lies and abandonment at the beginning of their journey. This was not the way it was supposed to happen! As she had thought time and time before, she was supposed to marry for political advantages, have an absentee husband and be mother to the next guardian of the dagger. She was not supposed to end up with feelings for this utterly confusing man.

"How can you say such things?" mutters Tamina her eyes averted from Dastan's intense gaze.

"I can say that because I know that you are what is most important to me. I am only so fortunate to have a part in your life."

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but you are most definitely not a curse," laughs Tamina. The laugh comes out watery like the Princess wanted to cry. Dastan crosses the room in two strides and seats himself gently beside the Princess.

"Do not cry Tamina. I will not leave you, not because you think that accursed Dagger will tear us apart, and most definitely not because you are trying to put distance between us."

"How did you know?" Tamina asks. Dastan looks at her with amusement as if to ask if she really needed the answer to such a question. She hits his arm with a stronger laugh and a look of annoyance before he joins in. They lay back on the bed looking up at the ceiling. A comfortable silence has settled over them. "You leave in the morning then?" Tamina asks wearily. She didn't know if she could watch him ride off into the desert without her. A sudden, burning desire to accompany him had infiltrated her senses.

"Yes, I do, but as you said, I owe you a wedding. You can't very well get married by yourself now can you?" replies Dastan. His breathing is even and soothing as he serenely looks up at the high ceilings.

"No, I can't," murmurs Tamina sleepily. It had been a long day, filled with emotional ups and downs. Her eyelids felt heavy. It was warm in the room and the sheets smelled pleasantly musky, like Dastan. With a sigh, she lets her eyes close. They would only be closed for a moment she assured herself.

Next to Tamina, Dastan's head turns to look at her. He is surprised to find that she is asleep, softly snoring. Briefly, Dastan entertained the idea of waking her, but the peaceful expression on her face stopped him. She might not be able to choose him over the dagger, but that didn't mean he couldn't stop her from needing to choose. With that Dastan settles back on the bed and allows his eyelids to close. He would need the rest for tomorrow's ride into the desert. Unconsciously Tamina sought Dastan's warmth in the night. Shifting ever closer to his side until her body was pressed right up against him. A small smile graces Tamina's lips as they both slip into dreamless, deep slumber.

The messenger pigeon soars high in the dark night sky. Flapping its wings slightly it directs itself towards the distant lights. Babylon was nearing. Soon it would deliver its message.

**A/N: The plot has thickened and it seems that its time for Dastan and Tamina to separate, but only for a little while. I don't have it in me to keep them apart for too many chapters, but we'll see how it goes. I have a few questions for you guys though: **

**Some of you have stated interest in having this fic go to a "M" rating for the Wedding night and Dastan and Tamina's subsequent passionate encounters. I've never written that before, but I think I could and will if there is enough interest.**

**Does the Hassansin leader have a name?**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and thanks to those of you who read far enough to get to the end of the Author's notes. As always please review because it is good for you and good for me!**

**Best,**

**GATX-105b**


	5. Chapter 5: A Notice New Chapter Soon

**So, this isn't a new chapter. Don't kill me just yet, and let me explain. I've been busy this week and I haven't had the chance to write much. The next chapter's being worked on, but I haven't been able to get it all down yet, and I don't want to give you guys a half-assed chapter. Also, I am going out of town in the morning- for two weeks. I have a business trip to Japan, and Taiwan so I will be there for a while. I won't have consistent internet access, but I will have my computer so I will be writing on the absurdly long plane ride over and back and in between. That being said, I wanted to say that a lot of you have been really awesome and I've been taking note of what you guys have been saying. However, some of you out there have apparently been taking no heed of the fact that I do need more reviews to continue, and this is not to be greedy. I simply believe that if I am to produce the best possible work, for the best possible entertainment of my readers, there must be feedback and encouragement for the author (oh, hey, that's me!). Again I want to thank all of you who are reviewing and appreciative of the time and energy it takes to write. If I can post while overseas, I will, but without a doubt I will be writing and will most definitely have something for you guys when I get back. I return on June 27****th**** (Which is also the premiere date of the 7****th**** season of **_**Entourage**_**). Please don't be mad at me and I thank you guys for your patience.**

**All the best,**

**GATX-105b**


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